


GREEN LIGHT

by alizarin_nyc



Category: Common Law
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alizarin_nyc/pseuds/alizarin_nyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes compares his life with Travis’ and finds he wants Travis’ life. Wait, no, he wants Travis. <i>What?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	GREEN LIGHT

Wes was fond of eye rolling. You never could catch him without an eye roll, maybe a smirk or two and his patented eyebrow lift. All in the name of telling Travis in no uncertain terms that Wes did not take him seriously, because he was a total lunatic who couldn’t tie his own shoelaces. 

Okay, he could tie them if he chose to, but he could not tie a tie properly, and that’s why he didn’t ever wear one. It wasn’t to get on Wes’ nerves. Which it didn’t. Wes had nerves of steel and Travis did not get under his skin.

Okay, he did. Wes wished that he got under Travis’ skin half as much as the reverse. Wes wished he could look good in jeans and boots and whatever it was Travis was calling a shirt these days. Wes only looked good in suits, and they fit him – literally and figuratively – but some days he wished he wasn’t wearing one. 

Wes had always wanted a motorcycle. So naturally Travis had one. 

Wes wished he could strike up conversation with someone of the female persuasion as casually as Travis did. He wished he could tumble into bed with the ease of someone like Travis, with the kinds of beautiful women that Travis managed to have circling him. 

Okay, no he didn’t. He wanted to want that, but monogamy was more his style, just like suits, a nice safe car and the eye roll. That was _him_. Okay.

It didn’t hit him until… well, it hit him. He was standing in his new apartment, arguing with Travis over what color he should paint the walls. Pearl grey, _clearly_ , no question. Travis was suggesting some sort of brick red, which was patently ridiculous. 

“Why do you always want me to do things that aren’t me?” Wes asked.

“Because things that are _you_ totally suck.”

“But they’re me. So what if they suck to you, why do you care?” Wes was constantly getting into infantile arguments with Travis, and he regretted each and every one of them. 

“I guess I want you to be more like me,” Travis said.

“Why?”

“Cause there’s just not enough me in the world,” Travis replied, stretching out and shifting down on Wes’ _off-white_ couch. The position was very Travis, and it was very… erotic. Okay, no, it wasn’t. Really.

“Why do you always sit like that?” Wes groused.

Travis shrugged. “Comfortable. Something you could be a lot more of.” Travis was moving his head, constantly in motion, his hands demonstrating his point by sweeping down his body then gesticulating in Wes’ direction. Then he stopped, cocked his head, and just stared at Wes.

Okay, he was right. Who didn’t want to be comfortable? Wes sat down gingerly on the other end of his microfiber, perfectly clean couch and stared at the brick red mark on the wall. It looked like a messy splotch next to his neatly painted trial rows of grey, light beige and off-white.

“Naw, man, comfortable. Like this.” He slumped even further and threw his arm over the back of the sofa. “Wait,” he said and took off his motorcycle jacket. He threw it on the floor.

“Okay,” Wes replied, taking off his suit jacket, undoing the cuffs and the top button, and then slouching down and spreading his legs wide. “How’s this?”

“You’re right. It’s not you,” Travis said, sitting up slightly as if Wes had surprised him.

“No, it’s _you_. And there needs to be more of you in the world, if I recall.”

“Did I say that? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you make _me_ look good by being _you_.”

“I’ve always wanted to be more like you.” Whoops, that wasn’t what Wes meant, or if he did, he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“Liar.”

“It’s the truth,” Wes admitted. “I’m being honest here. I want a lot of the things you’ve got.”

“You want… _what?_ That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Travis flopped back against the couch and hummed, seeming to puzzle over what Wes said.

“It’s not crazy. You think I like being me? I don’t. It’s damn hard sometimes. I wish it was easy, like with you.”

“Being me is not easy!” Travis huffed. “Jesus, you’re insane.”

“Well, then, you make it look easy. But it also occurs to me…” Wes figured he might as well say it all, spur of the moment, it’s what the Doc would have wanted him to do, and besides, Travis had that _look_ when Wes had gotten “comfortable,” so maybe this was not going to come straight out of left field.

“It occurs to you, what?” Travis prompted, looking for all the world as if he really cared about what Wes was going to say. 

“That I don’t want what you have. I don’t want to _be_ you. I just want you.” 

Wes felt as if he’d run ten miles. All the air had gone out of his lungs and he was staring mutely at the coffee table, which was, obviously, bamboo. 

“Did you just say that?” Travis asked. He was staring at him with what could have been rage, shock or lust – maybe all three. Wes refrained from flinching. 

“I did. I do. I want you.”

“Quit playing.”

“Not playing.”

“Okay, if it’s not a prank, which it _is_ , then you won’t mind scooting over here and laying one on me,” Travis said, his chin raised and his eyes darting from side to side.

“Okay,” Wes said. He’d never in his wildest dreams imagined it would be this easy. He scooted over and Travis’ hands went up quickly in protest, but Wes pulled them down and lunged. Before Travis could laugh, protest or deck him, their lips met. 

They both froze.

Wes was just about to pull away, and call a victory, laugh it off and pretend it was a joke, but then Travis’ hand came up and circled his head. Wes couldn’t decide if Travis was upping the ante or if he was into it. In the time it took him to think about those things, the heat started to gather low in his belly and a shiver ran up his spine and Travis’ lips telegraphed their softness. Okay.

Wes seized Travis’ face in return, concerned that one of them really would pull away and then he tilted his head and nudged Travis’ mouth open with his tongue. It was entirely possible that Travis _whimpered,_ and that just fueled Wes’ fire. To get under Travis’ skin would be such a turn on.

Wes took the lead, kissing Travis as forcefully as he could, then alternating with a more gentle pressure, loving the way his partner’s breathing became heavier. In fact, Travis was definitely making sounds, and it was almost as if he couldn’t catch his breath. He was swallowing Wes’ kisses and he was _definitely_ into this. Maybe he’d been considering it for a while, or maybe it was as much of a shock for him as it was for Wes. 

Travis pulled away and looked at Wes. Wes looked back at him. Either they were going to agree that this was completely fucked up, or they were going to go for it. 

Wes knew which way he wanted to go, and therefore, why didn’t he go for it? What would Travis do? Travis would go for it, Travis always went for it, leap first, think later. But Wes, Wes would hem and haw and keep all his feelings to himself. But Wes had _shot_ Travis, so that proved he could be a powder keg of… _things._ Of feelings. 

Wes grabbed Travis shirt and pulled it over his head. Travis let him. He then reached down and trailed his thumb down Travis’ sternum. Travis sucked in a breath and his eyes widened at first, then he closed them and arched up into Wes’ touch. That emboldened Wes enough that he scrambled at Travis’ belt and fly until they were open. Travis spread his legs beneath Wes like he was offering himself up for whatever Wes wanted. Wes could take. And fuck, he wanted to take. He ran his hand up and down Travis’ cock and tried not to stare too much at it. He’d hardly touched another man’s cock in his entire life but somehow this was working. Making Travis feel good was high on his list of priorities.

Travis snapped to and reached for Wes’ suit pants. The sly bastard had them and his boxers pushed down below his ass in seconds, and then he cupped said ass and pulled their bodies flush. Wes found his cock pressed against Travis’ and it was amazing. They humped for several long minutes, pushing up against each other, feeling pre-come slicking the space between them. 

“Oh god, it’s amazing, you’re amazing,” Wes said.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Travis said. “You’re wild in the bedroom, in charge, you’re so damn good, you feel great.”

Wes couldn’t compete with that litany of praise so he didn’t try. He just ground his body against Travis’ until he felt ready to come. He gripped their cocks in his hand and met Travis’ rhythms as they worked together, pushing through Wes’ fist in tandem. Grunts and _ah_ s – whose were whose, who could say? And Wes came over Travis’ chest, marking him. Travis pulled back and jerked his own cock until he came, shooting up on Wes’ chest. All’s fair, after all.

A bit of time to catch their breath was necessary and Wes panted as he came down from his lustful high. He didn’t meet Travis’ eyes. 

“Are we gonna talk about this?” Travis looked up at him finally, eyes wide. He pulled up his jeans and fumbled with the zipper, button, belt.

“I’d rather not,” Wes said. Why did he say that? He totally wants to talk about it. Just not right now, not in the afterglow. He wants to live in this fantasy-come-true for just five more minutes. Ten, at most.

“Right. But it’s gonna come up, eventually. Are we gonna talk about it in group?” Travis is sitting up, completely ignoring the come on his chest, which is kind of weird.

“I’d really rather not. Oh god, you’re not going bring it up in group.” Wes could feel his stomach twist, as if the eyes of the group and of the Doc were already on him. Travis’ face told him everything. “Yes, yes, you totally are. Well then we might as well.” Wes sat up and turned to face him. He pulled his shirt over his head and wiped his chest then handed it to Travis, who looked confused, then dazedly wiped his belly. It was hot. That was hot. The way his long fingers gripped the shirt, pulled it against him…

Wes momentarily forgot about the group and how insanely embarrassing it would be when Travis opened his mouth and told them that all of Wes’ problems centered around the fact that had the gay hots for Travis.

“So?” Travis’ lips were still reddened and he looked a little lost. Wes wanted to kiss him again. 

“It’s like I said earlier,” Wes said. “I want you. It’s okay if it’s friends with benefits, or if you can’t deal, but I’d like to do this again. And maybe again, if you want.”

“Fuck _me_.” He’d obviously stunned Travis into a sort of silence. He’d have to remember this for future reference. Travis ran a hand over his head. “This isn’t… this isn’t like you at all.”

“What I’ve been saying…”

“Is that you don’t want to be you.” Travis cocked his head, smiled a little. “But what if I want you to be you?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I like you, the way you are. We work.”

“And we wouldn’t work any other way.”

“Right. Wait, no.” 

Wes could feel his face falling. Travis couldn’t deal. It was going to be okay, he just had to take a deep breath and restore their working relationship, friendship, whatever. 

“I’m trying to say that _we_ work, because you’re you and I’m me.” Travis had the most earnest look Wes had ever seen on his face. Wes released the breath he was holding. He waited.

“Yeah,” Travis continued. “So, see? That totally works already. And we proved it today, too. It’s great.” Travis’ grin was triumphant. Sex and the workplace. That was his thing, after all. 

“I’m not really following you,” Wes said. “On the whole - _where does this leave us?_ \- bit.” 

“Anywhere you wanna be, baby,” Travis said, pulling him closer.

“Don’t call me baby.”

“Okay, baby.”

“No discussion of this at work. That would be bad. All your exes, we have to maintain a united front.”

“Sure, babe. I got your back, you got mine.”

“Call me babe one more time and I will pull my gun on you.”

“Oooh, that would be nice. One more go, eh?”

“Not my euphemistic gun. My real one. My literal one.”

“You could shoot me, babe. Or you could let me go down on you and suck your brains out through your dick. Before painting that wall red. “

“Red means stop.”

“Then I paint it green. Sage for your wisdom. I think you’d like sage.”

“Sage wouldn’t be too bad. There’s a little bit of sage in my painting, which will go there, I can tie it in with throw pillows…”

Travis’ mouth had dropped open. “Throw pillows, I don’t believe it.”

“Oh believe it my friend. In fact, let me show you my percale sheets.”

“I hate them already, Travis said, but he was up like a shot and headed for Wes’ bedroom. 

“I regret this already,” Wes wailed, just as he pushed Travis through the bedroom door and forward onto his bed. Travis opened his mouth to snark about the sheets and probably the tassels on his decorative bed pillows but before he could, Wes climbed on top of him and pressed his erection into Travis’ ass. “Major regrets. _Major_.”

END


End file.
